


Another Day

by silvercobwebs



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Ficlet, Friendship, Gen, Slash if you squint, christmassy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-12
Updated: 2012-05-12
Packaged: 2017-11-05 05:54:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/403136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silvercobwebs/pseuds/silvercobwebs





	Another Day

Christmas is just a recent Christian fad, a hijacking of the old Solstice festivities, a cultural rape and pillage of the old Pagan ways, he tells Richie, who is of course both horrified and delighted. He is too easy to please some days. He buys the kid a beer with a robin on the label, assuring him that it’s a suitably traditional beverage to share with MacLeod. 

Christmas is a lovely excuse to honour your finest customers with your finest libations, he reminds Joseph, who offers that Scotch they mutually agree he isn’t supposed to know exists, stashed between that deceptively small-looking hole between the register and the third floorboard from the left. They drink in a warm puddle of silence. 

Christmas is about nothing in particular, he informs Amanda, except for perhaps wheedling presents from your nearest and dearest. She pauses, tosses a diamond in to their champagne bottle where it clinks and fizzes about for a moment before settling its faceted gaze upon him, the hazy shimmer matching something uncertain in Amanda’s eyes. Oops. How clumsy of me darling. I suppose we’ll just have to finish it all now. 

Christmas is about family, he tells MacLeod, who smiles indulgently, shaking his head and rubs dry a tarnished saucepan lid, refusing him a cynical display. He slouches against the resolutely shiny work surface. Family and good cheer, gifts and the little brat Jesus, and robins and Santa and, and, and... Isn’t that what you still tell yourself, Duncan? That it’s still that one magical shining day when we’re all just that little bit better?

Duncan shakes his head, no, carefully folding up his towels, straightening out the barest hint of a wrinkle with one flick of a wrist. Christmas is just another day, Duncan knows. He’s not afraid to say it, that he’ll break it somehow. It’ll be another type of winter celebration in a century or two, already is in plenty of countries. No celebration at all in many. It’s just another day, he tells Methos, whose eyes narrow for a moment before slowly, languidly he sips his drink. 

But?

But. MacLeod stretches out the word, teasing him, drawing out that half-amused, half exasperated curve of the lips like flax. But it is another day with you.

And that, he supposes. That will do.


End file.
